Walking in Circles

August 4, 2008 | Leave a Comment

Accountants would call this an “outflow” day. As in: The money is flowing out. Poof. Gone. Never to be seen again. You see, I’m homebound today as I attempt to play some kind of schizophrenic version of a foreman. Except there’s one problem: I’m a foreman without a clue. So, instead of directing traffic, I’m simply getting in the way. But since I’m paying for the work, I’m of the notion that I should be involved. My wife, on the other hand, keeps telling me that the more I try to be involved, the more it’s going to cost us. And, of course, she’s right (again).

The work that I’m supervising is manly, indeed: Culvert repair from all this goddamn rain. Our farmhouse sits on the wrong side of a raging brook. And on the other side of that brook is our pasture, our garden, our woodlot and pretty much everything else we really like about living just outside of a village. But the two farm roads that connect us to our modest little promised land have begun to washout as a result of all the rain. Noah, Noah, where are thou?

The washouts would be a mere inconvenience if I wasn’t in the middle of trying to be the wood king of this section of the road in this part of the town known as Worcester. Or, to be more precise, I need the two roads to my wood nirvana to be fully operational so that the mighty wood trucks can get in and take my raw material bounty in exchange for the much-needed cash. Ah, inflow!

And so it was today. Road repair from the mighty ones who know how to do it while I walked back and forth thinking that if I walked back and forth enough it will almost feel like an honest day’s work. Or at least like I was “helping.” Don’t ask.

The good news is that it’s done. And the best news is that I don’t have the bill yet. So I can really puff out my chest, walk back and forth over the new muddy road repairs, and tell myself (mostly because that’s the only one listening) that I really got it done today. And think of the possibilities that this new work opened! Imagine the trucks of hording wood cravers coming and going, fetching the raw materials of my labor and leaving hefty checks or cold cash (preferred) as they depart. Hey, you gotta dream. Otherwise, you rot in the cesspool of bewilderment and – sooner or later –start thinking things like: Obama or McCain? Ugh. Save me from the nonsense. And line me up some more work.

I walk in circles better than most. I’m convinced of it. Go team, go.